After the war
by Greiver Dhark
Summary: The war has been over for years, and for most the scars continue to heal. But few in the wizarding world have learned from their mistakes, driving away their savior from their shores, from their attitude and arrogance, from their expectations. All is not right with the world, but as one flees and one stays, neither can or will let go of the war that so defined them.


Title: Longbottom secure home

Motto: 'Adversity makes us strong'

Summary: The war was over when Harry left Great Britain, unable to stand the British wizarding world any longer. Now he's finally returning, to find that the world, and the people he'd left behind, have changed.

AN: This originally started out as something very different, so it might be a bit confused; I don't have a beta but I have done my best. That's why the summary was a bit tweaked, and I'm not too set on the name. I've got a second chapter in the works but I can't promise anything; my writing is patchwork at best and I tend to have trouble making a complete chapter. Either way, I hope you enjoy this and hopefully I'll get more done.

Also, if you're a flamer, do at least try and be original. Criticism is appreciated but try to be gentle; I'm doing this to improve but I'm no pro. Let me know if there are any problems or typos you see though, and I'll try and fix them.

* * *

It had been almost six years since Harry Potter left Britain.

Not that his friends held it against him of course, they all understood and he did try and keep in touch as best he could. But England had let him down too many times, had become a place he couldn't stand to think of let alone live.

After the war it had quickly become clear that despite it all, the wizarding world hadn't learned a thing. The war he'd fought so hard in, the war that had taken so many of their friends and family, felt almost pointless. There were no winners, because they hadn't truly won. They had stopped Voldemort and his death eaters, but that was all, the problems that created them in the first place remained unchanged. The ministry was as corrupt as ever, and while anyone found with the dark mark (that had survived the fighting) had been put through the veil, there had been no changes in government otherwise. Nobody had put forward any changes, any preventative measures at all to safeguard against corruption or future dark lords. There was still a strong bias against anyone of less than pure blood, limiting their career options and rights and allowing the purebloods to keep their power and retain their superiority over others.

Basically, they hadn't learned a damn thing.

It was enough to make his blood boil; after all they'd done, all that suffering and the wizarding world had learned nothing. His efforts had been wasted on a society that for all its wonder, was full of lazy, stagnant beasts too self-involved to do the right thing or learn from their mistakes.

When everyone had looked at him to lead and guide them, to be the new Dumbledore, he knew that he had to leave. He wouldn't be shoeboxed into the role they wanted him to be in, wouldn't let them enslave him to their needs so they wouldn't have to think for themselves or handle their own problems. He didn't know how Dumbledore had done it, been there for the wizarding world whenever he was needed, almost single-handedly running the country in some ways, lest more people like Fudge take the important roles and fuck it all up.

Instead of all that, he'd travelled the world, learning magic he'd never even heard of with Britain's limited education. There was so much to learn, so much to live for, it filled the void in his chest that his home country had left him with, giving him drive and purpose, giving him the ability to enjoy his life again.

He'd rather thought he might never be able to.

After so long living in a tent with that blasted locket sucking the goodness out of them, he'd thought the world might remain that dark, dreary place it had seemed at the time. Leaving was the best thing he could have done; the world lit up for him once more, just like it had the first time he'd stepped into Diagon alley, so naive and excited.

His only real contact with 'home' was the occasional post card or letter, plenty of photographs (sent after he'd left that particular part of the world, just in case they thought to try and drag him back). But he was careful with what he received as well, never taking down the owl ward he had on, that redirected all of his mail to a secure room to pick up every now and again. After the first year or so their understanding became layered with impatience, the Weasley's messages became filled with pleading for his return along with their well wishes. He could understand, really, but he couldn't return, and while they sent him plenty of letters he read very few of them. They spoke of how things were going back home, what was going on, but he didn't want to know, having seen more than enough before he left. His mail picked up more than just mail from his friends of course; every now and again there would be something harmful, and plenty of howlers went off without anyone ever hearing them. Stacks of mail from strangers arrived that he never opened too, congratulating him or condemning him, he didn't care to find out.

He did make a few brief visits though, slipping back into the country to witness the births and some important dates of his surrogate family, but he never stayed long and never gave in to their desire for him to stay. He'd spent his whole life until then doing what others wanted and expected of him, and he was finally going his own way, doing what he wanted and finding out who he was. He was doing what was best for him, for once, and he wasn't going to come back until he wanted to.

It was on one of these rare visits that he discovered that Fred Weasley was only half as dead as he'd thought; the prankster hadn't been able to pass on without his brother and had returned as a ghost. He wasn't the only one who'd come back less than alive from the war, though a great many of those who remained had stayed on only long enough to say goodbye to their families and make sure they were well, before passing on.

In the meantime, he was more than happy exploring different countries, learning different cultures and of course different types of magic. Britain had always been very limited in its education in recent years, the bigotry having a lot to do with that (they refused to hire an educator non-native to Britain). Frankly the more he learned, the more jaded he became regarding the place of his birth, as he experienced what other places were like. It wasn't perfect of course, nowhere was perfect, but it was a damn sight better than what he was used to.

In the aftermath of the war, money hadn't been an issue for Harry, and because of that it wasn't for anyone else either. He'd made sure before he left that the people he cared about were adequately taken care of. After all, lots of people had given everything to the boy-who-lived in their wills, and the same happened again once he defeated Voldemort; so many had died, money and properties, house elves and so much more had all been donated to Harry.

Since Harry considered defeating the Dark Lord impossible without the people who had helped him, he'd managed to argue his way to paying out what he could to those who could do with it. Luna for example, with the family printing press destroyed along with most of her house, could use the money. The Weasleys always could, and even Hermione, trying to make her own life in the wizarding world, would need some.

Fortunately the goblins being given a chunk of the Death Eater's vaults had gone a long way to soothing their anger in regards to their break in, more because of the treasures held within rather than the gold, for once. Not all of it was dark or cursed either; Death Eaters were criminals and known to steal from the people they attacked if there was anything of value laying around, so there were some pretty nice stuff in there. Family heirlooms were returned to the families they belonged to, but anything else the goblins could take for themselves.

It was irresponsible for him to leave Britain when they needed him, he knew, though he'd done what he could before he left. Harry also knew he'd not been ready in the slightest for what was needed of him, the uphill battle of fixing the British wizarding world even as it refused to admit needing to change. Leaving had been best, but it had left the magical world in trouble, trouble that his friends had been left behind to try and sort out.

And they had, he knew that pretty much everyone left alive that had fought with him had tried to do something to fix the magical world. Not everyone had taken jobs in the ministry but some had, and those that didn't still spoke out against the way things were done and tried to change it from the outside.

Ron had made his dream and gone to work as an auror, and worked hard to bring down the remnants of Voldemort's dark supporters left in the ministry and anywhere else he could find them. It hadn't been easy working in the ministry after the war at first; the numbers were down dramatically and not everyone who remained were innocent, they'd simply not been marked, but he'd determinedly gone to work, vowing to bring the ministry in line with a firm hand as he rose up the ranks and used his influence to sort the place out.

Hermione went to work in the regulation of magical creatures office and set to immediately altering the laws regarding magical creatures, doing what she could to improve magical society as a whole and using the war as an excuse to prove that if their laws didn't change, the creatures would continue to flock to the people who promised them better, like Voldemort. With that in mind she'd been given a fair amount of freedom, if only because she was almost single-handedly doing all of the work by herself, including setting up werewolf sanctuaries for the weres at full moon.

Even the twins were brought in to help at one point, as Ron managed to convince the new head of the DMLE to implement a 'practice run' for what few security features they'd put into the ministry, mostly to prove how insufficient and ineffective they were. The twins had been hired to find weaknesses in the ministry defences as if they were hostile forces, but using non-harmful methods. They'd been given leave to prank the hell out of the ministry of magic and everyone working there, something they'd made full use of. It had more than effectively proved that the defences in place were not only lacking, but not properly understood and used. There was no point putting in anything at all if nobody used them, after all. (The beginning of the war of the badge began at this point too, as the given reasons for visiting the ministry became more and more outlandish by the 'invading force'. From Icelandic hockey players to human-nifflers intent on taking shiny things, they easily pointed out the need for improvement from the get-go and began a competition over the most outlandish badge in the meantime, a competition participated in by most of Harry's friends.)

Ginny had been torn between leaving Britain with Harry, and staying at home with her family. In the end she was gently let down by the 'Boy-who-lived'. The status of their relationship wasn't something he was ready to deal with and after all that had happened, neither were ready for it. How could they be with eachother when they'd both changed so much by the war? They had to figure out who they were individually now, before they could consider being with their partner who was also no longer the person they'd thought they were. But after a year of him being gone, she began a relationship with Terry Boot, a survivor of the attack at Hogwarts who had bravely fought by her side in the melee.

With so much rebuilding needing to be done, there was plenty of work for the citizens of magical Great Britain. The older Weasley boys had all had a hand in rebuilding Diagon alley alone, and Bill in particular had a lot of work as people needed properties and workplaces re-warded. Percy had worked for Fudge long enough to know where everything was, including the secrets and problem areas, and while it had taken him a while to leave his family to get back to work there, he'd certainly put his information to good use in the meantime.

There was something very defining about being in the war. It was more so with the children, the people who shouldn't have been there but were, whose home had been invaded and taken over. Those that had participated could never return to the people they'd been before, could no longer quite understand the people who'd hidden away in their homes, or been almost entirely untouched by war. They'd all experienced something profound, had been changed by it.

So going back to how things were wasn't an option for them. It went so far as to be an insult, even, to be treated like children and told to return to how things were after everything.

Harry wasn't the only person to leave Britain after the war, nor was he alone when he didn't return within a year. After the events of the war though, he was by far the most famous wizard in Britain and there would be no peace for him if he stayed. Especially as the wizards celebrated and sought to return things to how they were, seeking him out to place once again on the pedestal. He ran from his fame, from the people who cared not for him but only in what he could do for them, but others left simply because they could no longer bear to stay in the place they'd lost so much to. The war with Voldemort had wiped out whole family lines, and left others, like the Potters and the Boneses, almost extinct.

When he finally did return, it was quietly and without remark. By now he was used to slipping in and out of Britain, and could usually get in and out before anyone but the people he visited even knew he was there. His new found skills were certainly used to his advantage as some weren't recordable by the ministry and allowed him to enter the country undetected.

There was plenty for him to do though; while he still owned Grimmauld place it wasn't particularly inhabitable and so he'd bought a small house the muggle way and hidden it using magic. Nobody in the wizarding world knew he was back for some time before he finally made contact with his friends once more.

* * *

After the Second War, Neville had felt elated but also rather lost. The battle was over, but it was hard to see it that way. Some Death Eaters had escaped, and there had been so many losses. The funerals had lasted just over a week, back to back, and people had still been finding bodies of their loved ones for weeks after, some had never been found at all. Lord knew what the DE's had done to them.

For a while, he'd been an auror with Ron, tracking down and locking up a few of the escaped Death Eaters and ensuring that the corruption that had been rife was stamped out. He was one of a few trusted individuals to do so, while the ministry was entirely overhauled and worked through, there weren't many who could be trusted to do the job, and even fewer who were still alive. Many graduates had taken similar roles, many of the DA had helped out in the rough time until things settled and they went on their way.

At one point he'd gotten together with Luna, though it didn't last for too long. The pair of them had been a good match during the war; both very different and overlooked, both bravely standing against the Death Eaters and both becoming targets because of it. After a while though, it was clear their interests weren't aligned and while they remained good friends, Neville had returned to Longbottom manor, his own manor this time as his Grandmother took one of the smaller estates, finally handing the reigns to him.

He'd taken his place as Head of House Longbottom and fought his way into the political arena, doing what he could to fix things there but Neville was a man of strength, and while he could be subtle he was no political snake and as hard as he fought, there was only so much he could do. Sometimes he felt like a solid pillar in the Wizengamot chambers, a pillar among soft, weak men who stood for nothing but their own benefit and whimsy.

The war was over and there was so much to do, it was easy to bury himself in work. The wizarding world had been taken down to its knees and the rebuilding left a lot to be done and there was so much that other people wouldn't do. He took a job as the herbology professor for a while, working on his own projects and clearing the last of the wild plants that he and others had used as weapons in the war, and just before it.

He remembered fondly leaving plants like devil's snare and fanged geraniums outside Death Eater sleeping quarters, and around the perimeter of the school for the dark lord's followers to fall prey to. But it hadn't satisfied him; when things had settled down, it became clear that he wasn't needed any more. Everything went back to how it was before- better, but still just like before. He was overlooked again, returned to the background. It wasn't intentional; everyone wanted to get on with their lives, settle down and recover, with some going out to fix things but Neville thrived in the hard times, he'd grown standing up against monsters and now that they were gone, he felt lost again, a force pushing one way, but with nothing to push against.

So he'd taken up creating an orphanage. He wasn't the only one to have the thought about all the orphaned children of varying ages, but most people only cared about the victims of the Death Eaters, and Neville saw past that. No longer influenced by house rivalries, he had seen that the children of Death Eaters had been as much victims as everyone else, yet few had the compassion to give them. Neville did. He also had the strength and desire for a challenge, and they had certainly been a challenge.

So while he felt a great sense of loss at leaving Hogwarts as staff this time, he'd found himself a better cause. Taking in the kids nobody else wanted; the troubled children, the unwanted and the children of Death Eaters. He'd heard the story of Voldemort, and of Severus Snape, and he knew that a stable home would have gone a long way to if not help, or even stop, those people from ever going dark, they would at least have someone who knew, someone keeping an eye on them. It had been beyond difficult- still was, years later. There was never a lack of 'trouble children', especially muggleborns.

One of the things he'd heavily instigated and enforced while a Hogwarts professor was child safety. Too many times had the school overlooked their duty of care to the students. Too many times had kids been sent back to abusive or neglectful homes, or orphanages. Now, many of those students came to Neville, or to another orphanage if they were better suited to it. But they were taken care of, and that was what mattered. Now, if someone would say something like Neville had, years back, about being dropped off of Blackpool pier and nearly drowning because of a family member testing for magic, it wasn't ignored.

So it was no surprise that his manor had some big fucking doors on the front, as much to keep out vengeful citizens seeking any link to a Death Eater they could find, as it was to keep the little monsters in. The land was heavily guarded, particularly by innocent looking plants all along the way. They were better spies and guards than he could ever be and far better than hiring any human guards; Neville wouldn't trust most wizards to tend to his plants, let alone his kids.

The knocking on the door was unexpected though. Almost nobody came to adopt these children, they were here for life, and since it was school term, a bulk of the kids were at Hogwarts. Only the younger ones remained, or those recently graduated but with nowhere to go. He helped them as best they could to become self sufficient and move out, but didn't hurry them to leave. A few had stayed, particularly the older of the DE's kids, who still were met with hisses in the street if they went to Diagon alley, and struggled to find work or housing for themselves. They stayed and taught the younger kids- it gave him more free time.

Opening the heavy doors with ease, Neville met the stranger with a smile on his face and wary look in his eyes- and his wand in his hand, hidden behind the door as he pulled it open. "How can I help you?" He asked in a steady but surprisingly light voice, considering his fairly sturdy stature and taller frame.

End Chap 1


End file.
